


Moot Point

by Sunflower_Clavat



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles, Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles: Ring of Fates
Genre: Astraphobia, Closure, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grown-Up/Older Yuri and Chelinka, Married Couple, Mild Language, My First AO3 Post, Not Beta Read, Set a few decades after the events of Ring of Fates in the new world created at the end of the game, Spoilers for Ring of Fates, Tags Contain Spoilers, The twins are now older with families of their own, Trauma, but they don't like it, headcanon: Yuri has astraphobia due to Latov dying on a stormy night, headcanon: unimportant but Aleria likes puns because of that "bearing fruit" joke lol, just a little "what-if?" scenario for how the twins' lives would be after the ending, my poor babies the twins deserve the whole world, poor Yuri still has some trauma from watching his dad get murdered before his eyes, so I've given them the best lives possible with families of their own (sobs), the twins' adventure has been turned into a popular fairytale in the new world, the whole fairytale thing is based on the fact that in Crystal Bearers the jacket emblem, with the twins on it is called "Gemini Myth"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunflower_Clavat/pseuds/Sunflower_Clavat
Summary: A few decades after he and Chelinka have created a new world where their family and friends could live in happiness and peace, Yuri still finds himself struggling to reconcile his heroic, albeit tragic past with his brighter and more idyllic future. Thankfully, he is not left to deal with these thoughts alone.Oneshot, Yuri/OC.
Relationships: Chelinka/Gnash (Mentioned), Yuri (Ring of Fates)/Original Female Character
Kudos: 3





	Moot Point

**Author's Note:**

> So, ever since I've finished Ring of Fates, I've had many thoughts and questions about how the twins would go about their lives after creating the new world. Sure, we get a glimpse of it in multiplayer mode if you decide to visit Villa, but even this little treat wasn't enough for me personally. And story mode is charming but also quite short, so there isn't really anything that you can glean from that part of the game. This fanfic was originally supposed to part of an even bigger, grander story about the twins' future lives involving some epic adventure, but...well, that died out long ago. The piecemeal fragments that have remained of this tale are, firstly, the question of if Yuri and Chelinka- especially Yuri, given that he had been all alone for many years- even in the new world, still struggled with the memory of losing both their parents at a young age and having to fend for themselves while being hunted by the people who wanted them dead or used as mere tools to manipulate crystals. I mean come on, watching your dad get murdered right in front of you and then having to live by yourself for many years taking care of your comatose sister must've left some measure of trauma on Yuri's mind. Perhaps this is why Yuri ended up the main character of this story rather than his sister.  
> Secondly, in the original story I had in mind- since it was supposed to be about a decade after the ending and the characters were thus going to be much older- I had planned to ship Chelinka with Gnash, and Yuri with an OC love interest (a Clavat woman named Meredith). Chelinka/Gnash is mentioned very briefly in this story, but for some reason Yuri's lady love and her relationship with him stubbornly slipped into my writing and refused to escape, lol, so I ended up making her a bigger part of the story...I had thought that her inclusion- as well as that of Yuri and Chelinka's growing families of their own, including children- would stress the point that Yuri's struggle is not only about his past, but how he perceives his present and future as well.  
> Anyway, I have rambled on for too long! Please enjoy the story, and if you like it please remember to say so in the comments or drop a few constructive criticisms on how I can improve my writing. Also, please leave kudos if you enjoyed the story!

Putting his kids to bed that night had given Yuri an understanding of how challenging it must’ve been for his parents to care for the pair of hyperactive, curious and headstrong children that he and Chelinka had been as nine-year-olds.

Yelena, for all her pride for being the “owldest” and most “rwespwonsible” of the three, had jumped up and down on her bed for half-an-hour, platinum-blonde braid whipping excitedly across her grinning face as she regaled in a detailed spiel about magic and crystals and monsters- clearly a reproduction of one of old Al’s lectures about magicology or such...the little one had taken such a strong interest to magic recently, and had taken upon herself to memorize everything the aging Yuke had ever muttered about spell-casting, even if her little eight-year-old brain had yet to comprehend it. Valerian refused to settle down until he had finished reciting a series of cheesy puns that had sent Aleria into a fit of uncontrollable snorting the other day, to which little Kateryna- a two-year-old who was the clumsiest toddler that Yuri had ever beheld (and _that_ was saying something, considering how toddlers typically were)- had collapsed into a fit of giggles and squealing and almost toppled over the edge of the bed, trapped in her own little world of bliss even as Yuri hurriedly caught her and positioned her upright again.

He still couldn’t believe that the three sleeping angels bunched up on the bed together, faces relaxed in quiet serenity with unruly strands of hair spilled across their still eyelashes and noses, were the same children who he had been struggling to tuck in mere moments ago. Thank the gods for his wife, a calculated mix of no-nonsense, steely calm and snow-soft warmth who had lulled her little ones to sleep with her lilting, singsong voice, perfect for lullabies and bedtime stories.

When his wife had taken over the situation- with nothing more than a knowing glint in her pale gray eyes and a graceful sweep of her sapphire skirts past him- he had returned to the kitchen, resuming the task of washing up the dishes after dinner that she had graciously abandoned to tend to their offspring. He almost did not notice the slender spring of starflower perched upon the kitchen table as he walked past it, accompanied by an untidy, messily-written note. Curiosity piqued- something he’d never really abandoned from his childhood days, his penchant for adventure and discovery- he tenderly gripped the flower in one hand and opened the note with his other.

“fOR PaPA- LuV Yelena, Valereean, an Katereena. FroM MommA’s gArDen!” it read, clearly having been written with the cooperative efforts of all three children. Kateryna, being just a toddler and not being able to write yet, had scribbled a drawing of herself in the far-left corner of the page. Indeed, it was a bloom filched from his wife’s garden, all fragrant and fresh.

Yuri felt warmth and love, love, love blossom in his chest, just as this flower had done in the garden. His children may have been so excitable and exuberant, but they were happy, and kind, and most of all they were his. They were the most important things in his life, the cherished pieces that made up his heart, and sometimes when he looked at them he felt as though a new chamber of his heart opened up, flooding his conscience with the realisation that he was too damn lucky to be the father of such a wonderful trio of kids.

After washing the dishes he decided that maybe he could spoil the kids a little with striped apple cookies as a dessert after tomorrow’s dinner. Or maybe striped apple pie...but would that take too long? What about crystal fruit pudding? Or would that be too elaborate? Yuri could imagine his wife tsk-tsking at him if she heard of his schemes, her soft, musical voice laced with indignation and amusement- “See, Yuri? You are too indulgent of them. No wonder why they fail to listen to you and refuse to settle down at bedtime when you command them to do so.” And perhaps she was right- he doted on them, being the more relaxed parent in contrast to his sweetheart’s more disciplinary role.

He made his way to the main room of his house, where a fire roared in the hearth, illuminating the chairs and table and bookcase propped up in the small but cozy space. Yuri rummaged the cabinet for the desserts cookbook, which proved difficult, for the shelf was crammed with books of other uses- most of them his wife’s tomes on herbal medicine, white magic, botany, and the storybooks and fairytales she read to the children- as well as trinkets, toys, and other miscellania. As a last resort, he flipped through a few books to sleuth out even a loose sheet of paper possessing his intended recipe. Thoughts on anything but the content of the books, he almost ignored the tactile memory of mingled alarm and nostalgia that coursed through his body when his hands brushed against a thick leather tome dyed crimson.

He only registered the vast importance of the book just as he was about to slide it back into its previous position. Fumbling for it again, he turned it over in his hands and flipped to a random section of the book, memories flooding back to him as he gazed upon the illustration that greeted him, bright and cheery and colorful- completely contrary to his own recollection of that event.

His twelve-year-old self, grasping his beloved sword Ragnarok in his hands, facing off against the monstrous Galdes, completely ignorant of the storm of stars and comets that the moongod had trapped them in. Chelinka, also twelve-years-old, brandishing her crystal pendant as it glimmered like a fallen star in her hands, also with a look of sheer determination on her face. Alhanalem, Gnash, and Meeth flanking them, weapons drawn.

The Ring of Fates, or, the Myth of the Fated Twins, a fairytale that the people of the kingdom had discovered and grown to love; a tale of hope and willpower that parents told their children as bedtime stories, or that even grown adults spoke of as a patriotic tale- of the people of Rebena Te Ra banding together to banish the moongod back to the sky where he belonged.

In the eyes of the public, they- well, the nameless protagonists, for Rebena Te Ra had not yet established the true identity of the characters- were heroes, and the story was all about victory and good triumphing over evil. But for Yuri and Chelinka- and more recently, ever since recovering their memories of the past world, Alhanalem, Meeth, and Gnash- that “fairytale” was reality, a harsh memory in which they had to push forward and fight to survive. Sure, there were memories from then that Yuri recalled with joy and fondness, such as meeting his closest friend Gnash and traveling across the world with his best friends, but the one prevailing thought at that time for him was survival and willpower; bringing justice to the Lunites for sacrificing Yuri’s mother and Princess Tilika to the moongod, and halting their wretched plan of bringing the Crimson Moon back to earth. And that was certainly not the idea captured within the pages of this book, with its cheerful and brightly-hued illustrations.

A loud clap of thunder made Yuri jolt from his thoughts, hair and goosebumps prickling off his skin. In the depth of his musing, he had failed to notice that it was raining- not a big surprise, being typical spring weather for the mountain regions of the kingdom. Yet the book in his grasp and the rain battering against the nearby window instilled something uneasy within Yuri; of long-buried memories, threatening to emerge. Didn’t the gaudy, crimson red of the book cover remind him of something- a mask, perhaps, edged with gilded gold? But where did he remember seeing that? Wasn’t it a night like this, rainy, laced with thunder…?

The memory resurfaced in a loud, searing flash that almost crippled him to the core.

The night, long ago, in that other world, when Cu Chaspel had killed his father.

Yuri gulped in a deep breath, feeling his soul and strength wither away. He dropped the book as though it were aflame, shuffling to a chair before the fireplace, despite the fact that his legs felt as though they were filled with lead. His shaking body collapsed into the chair, desperately gripping the armrest.

Forcing deep, steady breaths through his mouth and nose, he inwardly cursed himself for reacting so. He’d been doing so well for the past decades, deftly hiding his anxiety towards rain and thunder- and besides, in this world his father was alive and well, he had no reason to panic. Now, in the present-day, in this world, Yuri was contented and grateful: his parents were old but healthy, finding no reason to muse or sorrow at all due to constantly being surrounded by the flocks of grandchildren that Yuri and Chelinka had provided for them.

But back then, during that storming autumn night and in the equally bitter years that followed, Yuri had known nothing but sorrow and pain and blind willpower. Training with his sword for hours on end in the blustering snow even as his limbs screamed in protest, gently pouring warm stew past Chelinka’s lips even as her dull golden eyes stared past him in empty gratitude, subsisting on meager meals of watery soups in order to give his comatose sister the few proper, nutritious meals that he had managed to coax from the cold mountain soil...throughout all of this, he would have never dreamed that his future self would even be remotely happy.

“The little ones are finally asleep. You can go and kiss them goodnight now...Yuri?” his wife’s voice, soothing in all its familiarity, cast a spell on him and almost completely raised him out of his musing. Yuri blinked, head shooting up abruptly as he turned to face her. He rubbed at his face wearily and mustered his softest, most loving smile.

“Finally? It took them but fifteen minutes to settle down with you; with me it took more than thrice that much, and I wasn’t even successful,” Yuri chuckled, gesturing to the chair next to him- his sweetheart’s customary chair, neatly draped with her many personally-sewn and embroidered coverings and pillows. “Rest now, Meredith. I did the dishes for you.”

Meredith’s small, delicate form brushed past him, her slender fingers briefly squeezing his calloused ones in affection as she journeyed to her chair. She allowed him to brush his lips against her knuckles before retreating her arm. Yuri felt a wave of giddy joy and love rise in his being when their wedding rings clinked together- even after nine years of marriage, he couldn’t help but feel so lucky and blessed around his beautiful bride. She settled down, a picture of quiet yet determined pride and poise, and glanced at her husband with a teasing, warm look in her silvery eyes, “Tonight it took both the ‘Tale of the Little King and His Promised Land’ and Moonless Starry Night to get them drowsy. Where did our little ones get such energy from?”

“From me, no doubt,” Yuri smirked, fingers reaching out to play with the loose strands of dark hair falling from Meredith’s crown braid, then tucking them back into the plait. “Al says that Chelinka and I were ‘little rascals’ who he could never lure from ‘antics troglodytical.’”

She delicately raised her palm to her mouth, giggle silvery and lilting, “And what does Meeth have to say about your childhood? Your parents speak as though you and your sister were such angels!”

Yuri’s green eyes sparkled with mischief, and he propped his chin on the knuckles on his free hand, “Ah, she was often our partner-in-crime, you see. Especially when planning pranks to use on Alhanalem.”

“Oh, goodness! So devious, Yuri. Though I can’t say that I am surprised, especially when thinking of how you kept me up last night even though we were supposed to be asleep, talking and pondering for hours about all things and sundry.”

“It was more your doing than mine, stubborn lass! For all your sweetness and gentleness your intellectual mind is insatiable.”

Husband and wife laughed, then relaxed in the quiet warmth of the roaring fireplace and each other. Yuri almost forgot about the terrors that had gripped him prior to his wife’s entrance. Now, the rain pattered softly against the roof and windows of their humble home, almost comforting to even someone like him who hated this kind of weather.

In the cozy silence that followed, Meredith had picked up her sewing kit and was working meticulously on a torn pinafore of Yelena’s, humming a lilting tune under her breath. Sometimes, she would pause for the briefest of moments to rest her head against her husband’s shoulder, to which he would melt into her touch as well, before she quickly resumed her task. Yuri sat back and watched her contentedly.

After a certain amount of time had passed- his sweetheart was dutiful and rigorous in keeping a schedule for her daily tasks- Meredith gently put down her work of embroidery and went to the bookshelf in search of her book on herbal medicine, as well as her prayer-book; it was getting late, and she had only to concoct a potion for Chelinka’s fever-ridden youngest son before, being a devout follower of the Temple, saying her prayers for the night and retiring. She failed to notice the crimson storybook splayed out on the floor, and almost tripped over it, gasping in agony and shock as she stumbled. Yuri was by her side in an instant, clutching her elbows as she sagged in pain.

She lifted her chin defiantly and shot her husband a dignified but reassuring smile. Yuri rolled his eyes- his wife was always determined in ensuring that no-one saw her during a moment of weakness or vulnerability, even in a situation as ridiculous and trivial as stubbing her toe. It may have been a minor bruise, but Meredith was finely-built and fragile in size. He wanted to ensure that she was okay.

“Are you okay, Merie?” he murmured, moving to guide her back to her chair. “Ouch, that must’ve hurt. I’ll get your books for you.”

“I am quite fine, my love,” Meredith gently batted away her husband’s concerned, hovering presence, which was difficult- due to the vast height difference between the couple, a combination of Yuri’s tallness and Meredith’s tiny frame, she could barely peer over his shoulder on tip-toes, much less physically shoo him away. “Really Yuri, there is no need. I need only a little Cure to fix this and I’ll be well.”

Yuri let her waddle over to her chair by herself, a comic sight- his wife was fiercely independent, proud, and unyielding for even the littlest things, and Yuri knew better than to cross her and make her feel as though she was incapable. He smiled and bent down to scoop up the storybook, but recoiled upon seeing the stained-glass inset on the front, of him and Chelinka as child-heroes, his sword in hand, pendant in hers. He managed to climb to his feet and approach the shelf, but anger and disgust made him pause and stare at the book with burning eyes.

Gods, was he ever to escape that wretched false memory? It permeated even the most blissful of moments, such as being here with his wife. Amid his frozen, furious state, he vowed to burn that blasted thing first thing in the morning. He may have loved his Uncle Kolka and cousin Tilika dearly, but the one thing he would ever hold against them was spreading this tale, making him and his sister and friends reluctant heroes, and sending them this book. Just like the rest of Rebena Te Ra, the Royal Family saw them as paragons of heroism, and had insisted that they had to do something in return for having such esteemed heroes save the kingdom. It hurt Yuri a little bit that even his extended family did not understand the true nature of that other world.

But then, he realised for the first time, there were also a few good times during those days, shining like bright stars in the shadow of the night- sitting at a campfire half-jesting, half-arguing with Meeth about “treating her like a kiddie;” clambering up the branch of a high tree to sit alongside Gnash and share a striped apple with him; debating with Alhanalem about the concept of death and the ignis fatui; him and Chelinka perched up on that cliff overlooking Lake Cyela, beholding the dizzying dance of the will o’ wisps on the lake with the fields of stars above them.

Looking back, he was grateful for the few moments of cheer that he had experienced back then, and now, looking forward, he was also grateful for what he had now, because that life had taught him how to be thankful for the littlest, yet most significant things- his parents, wrinkled with age and too many laugh-lines, smiling with the radiance of the sun as they stretched out their arms to embrace their many grandchildren; laughing and chatting with Chelinka, his now-brother-in-law Gnash, and their two sons; sweeping up Yelena and Kateryna in his arms to press kiss after kiss to their silky hair and button noses; teaching an excited Valerian how to fish and wield a sword and chop firewood; taking Meredith into his arms bridal-style and spinning her around as she giggled and squealed in protest, and peppering loving kisses against her pale skin.

Was his perception of that life and its legacy so narrow-sighted, so blind to the valuable, cherished moments that he experienced then and now? The thought shocked him; his breath hitched in this throat.

“Are you having difficulty finding it, Yuri? The prayer-book is on the topmost shelf, beside the flowerpot, while the tome on herbal medicine is- ah, Yuri?”

Meredith hobbled to his side, barely managing to stand on the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders and stroke back his messy bronze hair, “My love, what-” She must’ve noticed the infamous red book clutched in her husband’s hands, for her air of concern had turned into one of solemn understanding. After all, she was the only person besides the other four ‘heroes,’ Queen Tilika, and the former king Kolka to know of the previous world. “Oh, dear heart...”

“It’s...not just anger, or frustration, or hurt,” Yuri confessed, voice low and monotone. “It’s also nostalgia, joy and even...gratitude, and longing.”

He stumbled over these words, as though even he could not believe what his heart was telling him. He felt his eyes burn and a feeling of tightness constrict his chest, “I just...don’t know what I should be feeling, or what I should think, now, of that other life. Because, looking back, that life was not just comprised of bad times, but also the good. And...after experiencing all of that, I’ve just realised that that other world is the source of why I appreciate all I have in this life.”

“It’s just that...at that point, reeling from despair and sorrow, knowing little else than how to fight and hope...I had never fathomed that I would be here, at this very moment. By this warm fireplace in a world where mom and dad and Chelinka and everyone else is happy and safe from from those goddamned Lunites, with my soulmate beside me and my kids tucked securely in their beds, without fear of monsters or moontouched. Neither did I fathom that, only a few years after that incident, in that same world, that Chelinka would wake up, and I would be so overjoyed and relieved to hear her say my name that I cried, or that I would go on amazing adventures with my best friends.” Yuri inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, blinking back tears from his eyes. His free hand stretched out to wrap around his wife’s, fingers entwining and squeezing, molding together as one.“I mean...I acknowledge the tragedy of that life, but...still...I’m just so grateful, Merie. And...happy. For what I have experienced, and for what I have now. So grateful...am I allowed to be this happy?”

His wife ran her hands through his mess of hair, stroking his head and shushing him softly. Her comforting scent of lavender and jasmine enveloped the two of them, “Of course you are allowed to be happy, my sweet. You’re allowed to feel all those other emotions as well.”

“But why?” his voice cracked. “Why am I experiencing this nonsensical mess of thoughts and feelings that...that seem to contradict each other? One corner my mind turns, and I see painful and terrible memories. Another path I explore, and I recall blissful, beautiful moments. And then...and then...with both in mind, I feel such a sense of peace and acceptance...especially when I think of the goodness that I have now.”

Finally, the tears brimmed over. Yuri sobbed, wrapping his arms around himself in order to prevent the feelings of contentedness and closure from bleeding out of his soul. Meredith pressed her small frame against his, palm resting gently against his chest, where his heart pulsed.

“You lived, Yuri.” she said softly, simply. “And all of that- anger, sorrow, love, and joy- is what only the living experience. Your tale was not some fairytale as the people in the city think, or one of pure survival and tragedy as what you had believed it to be, but simply a few days among the land of the living. And there are more days yet to come that will be filled with that very same perplexing miscellany of emotions. That other life will also naturally influence who you are in this one, and how grateful you are for the things you didn’t have in that life, but have now.”

“And,” she continued, voice soft and knowing- she herself had been orphaned and forced to care for her younger sisters at a young age, so despite not having Starsinger powers to turn back time, she and Yuri had come to something deeper than understanding in discussing these matters. “You have moved on and accepted that other life, Yuri, both painful and blissful as it was.”

“Gods, gods above-” his words were something between a pitiful hiccup and a joyous laugh. One hand went to his chest to clutch Meredith’s hand, which was right above his heart. He pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles, then returned his hand and hers to his bosom, fingers intertwining so tightly that they became one. “When did you become so wise and knowing, Merie?”

It was a jest, one of the many games that husband and wife exchanged with each other. A sweet smile laced his beloved’s mouth as she replied, “I always was, my dear, it’s just that you never noticed.”

He bent down to pepper thankful, fervent kisses against her lips, her nose, her forehead, the top of her head. “Oh, Merie...I love you, I love you so much...”

“I love you too, Yuri.”

After lingering in each others’ arms for hours, sneaking shy, burning kisses to each other’s skin and lovingly pressing their foreheads together, Meredith pulled her red-eyed, tired husband to the bookshelf. She held the crimson storybook in one hand, and proffered it to Yuri so that he clutched it as well. Together, they slid the book into the space where it belonged- where it was simultaneously left behind to history, yet still in the sight of all in the room.

To reconcile with, but to never forget, the past; and to remember what it lent to the future.


End file.
